


Tamed

by SparklingDragonTears



Category: Yellowstone (TV 2018)
Genre: I don't know how to tag this because I'm tired, Loyal!Ryan, M/M, more to come - Freeform, the brand - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27378742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: Beth’s brand was invisible. Ryan walked like he already wore one.It had taken every ounce of strength Rip had not to claim the man each and every time he asked.
Relationships: Beth Dutton/Rip Wheeler, Rip Wheeler/Ryan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed Yellowstone. Can't wait for the next season.  
> Also, I should be writing for Nano, but sometimes you just need some good old fanfiction.
> 
> This is just a quick write, but I like it and felt like posting.  
> I have only seen the series once, instead of obsessively like my other fandoms (Looking at you Teen Wolf). So sorry if some of it is wrong.

Rip looked down at the single letter Lloyd had texted him.

_R_

God, it was nights like this that he wished the alcohol could just be _enough_. But now, he would have to man up and face him, betrayed kicked-puppy eyes and all. 

He tossed back the last of his third beer and sighed. He wondered how many Ryan will have finished by the time he walked out to the bunk house.

He sighed at his ceiling, before pushing off the bed and scuffing through the house, trying his best not to wake anyone. When he stepped onto the front porch, he listened. 

A quiet night, the crickets echoing hundreds of thousands of tiny chirps across the endless pasture. 

The bunk was quiet too. 

With one more lungful of cool air for courage, Rip trudged down the hill.

He found himself too quickly staring at the wood, hand frozen on the handle. 

This was stupid. How many times had he taken Ryan out of his head now? At least as many times as he’d pressed the brand into someone’s chest who wasn’t the wrangler. 

He was pretty sure that count was coming to its end.

He pushed the door open and assessed the area. Jimmy was sleeping on his back, skin bleeding through the gauze strapped over his pec. He breathed deeply, face twisted in pain, fingers twitching around the empty bottle of Jack laying across his stomach. A few of the men were already asleep, curled away from the light in the kitchen area. Lloyd was playing cards at the table with Colby. He met Rip’s eye and tilted his head to where Ryan sat on the kitchen counter, loosely dangling a beer bottle between his spread legs. He was watching the card game, but Rip had a feeling he wasn’t seeing it. Judging by the half-dozen bottles dangerously close to his elbow, Rip was pretty sure Ryan needed him to reel him back again, like he’d done so many times before. 

He cleared his throat and leaned against the door frame. He didn’t care who else he disturbed. The only thing he cared about was the cowboy now looking up at him through unfocused eyes and thick lashes. 

“C’mon.” He jerked his head toward the door and waited. Ryan bowed his head and Rip could see the flex in his jaw where he ground his teeth in irritation. He waited another second before deepening his voice to the command that always snapped the wranglers into attention. “ _I’m not asking._ ”

Ryan didn’t look up, but slipped down from the counter. He petulantly tossed back the rest of his drink and threw the empty bottle in the sink. The glass clanked loudly against the edges, but didn’t shatter. Colby looked up at him with concern, but Lloyd coughed sharply, a not-subtle indicator to leave Rip to whatever business he had to take care of. 

It took him twice as long as usual, but Ryan eventually pushed past him out the door. Rip nodded a quick thanks to Lloyd before closing the door behind them. 

He spun around and caught Ryan by the shoulder. The man froze, but didn’t face him. 

One of those nights, then. 

Rip kept hold on the man and slowly came around to his front. Ryan wouldn’t look at him.

He felt the frustration bubbling under the lull of his own beer, but tried valiantly to breathe deeply. He understood, he always did. He knew why Ryan was hurt. It didn’t matter how many times they had this conversation, he knew the man’s patience was running thin.

“Hey,” Rip slipped his hand to the back of Ryan’s neck, clasping tightly, two fingers sinking into his skin, two threading into the base of his hair. He ran his thumb up toward Ryan’s ear in a way that he knew made his knees weak. “Look at me,” 

It took a few quiet seconds, where Rip wondered whether this was the time that finally did it and broke whatever precious hold he had on Ryan’s stability, before the man finally met his eye. 

“A fucking kid?” His voice was raw and rough, although Rip couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the man smoking. He didn’t want to consider what else made a man sound so broken. 

Rip knew what he was really asking. _Why not me?_

He tugged Ryan closer by the grip at his neck, resting their foreheads together, a quiet answer to the same runaround they always had. _I don’t ever want it to be you._

Ryan sagged, defeat sapping his strength. He closed his eyes and let himself breathe in Rip’s silence.

“He can’t even fucking ride.” The mumble could barely be considered protest.

Rip lifted one hand to run his fingers over the scratchy hairs on Ryan’s chin. He tipped the sharp jaw forward, and waited, a breath away. He nudged against Ryan’s nose, asking forgiveness again. 

The pause before he gave in was longer every time. When Ryan finally tipped up the last fraction of an inch, Rip knew this would be the last. 

He wasn’t about to take it for granted. 

Rip pulled the man closer, tongue already running over Ryan’s, slowly unweaving the man’s defenses. When the cowboy was panting against his lips, he stepped back, hands locked around Ryan’s forearms. He tugged gently, in the direction of the stables.

The wranglers used the pile of hay in the far corner for this exact reason. No one would step out and catch an eyeful there.

Ryan followed without protest, the same way he followed Rip’s every command.

When Rip pushed him into the hay, he fell backward, fingers already opening the long line of buttons down his front. Rip shoved his hands up the man’s undershirt, tearing the fabric over his head almost before he’d finished loosening his flannel. Rip ran his hands up the muscles cut from years in this place. He traced the tattoos, bleeding out into faded greying lines. He rested one hand over Ryan’s left pec, kept pristine for the one thing Rip knew he wanted more than anything else on this planet. 

“Seven years, Rip.” Ryan breathed against his neck, lips sending shocks down Rip’s spine. Clearly he wasn’t doing enough to distract him.

“I know.” Of course he knew. Every year Ryan stayed was another nail in his own damned coffin. 

As Rip pressed Ryan’s naked ass against the sharp stalks of hay, he felt a certain vindictiveness clawing at his chest, knowing that Ryan would feel the cuts from the straw all day tomorrow while riding. He had stolen Beth’s fancy, slimy lotion that smelled like peppermint. It was a two-for, making Ryan squirm delightfully when the oils burned against his hole and Rip’s fingers teased him open. 

Ryan’s fingernails sunk into his shoulders when Rip pressed deep inside of him. Rip groaned at the tight heat around his dick. The smell of peppermint and horses was exactly the same fucked-up contrast as the hard lines of the wrangler under his grip and Beth’s soft curves in his bed, and just how easily Rip was lost to both.

Ryan was everything Beth could never be. He was stable, consistent, loyal. He did whatever Rip asked of him, without question. While Rip would never call any of the cowboys patient, Ryan was a damned saint compared to the blonde spitfire who’d claimed the other half of his heart. The wrangler was a follower by nature, and god damnit, he was the best fucking man working here besides Lloyd. 

It had taken every ounce of strength Rip had not to claim the man each and every time he asked. 

As he came inside Ryan in a way Beth would never allow him to, Rip thought with shame that this was the closest he could bear to marking the man as belonging to this place, to _him_.

Ryan’s eyes slipped closed with his heaving breath. He dropped his hold, sated for the time-being, reeled back into Rip.

He was going to hell already, and it killed him to think about dragging Ryan there with them.

Beth would never let him clean her up, feeling undignified. Ryan only twitched when Rip dragged his handkerchief over his oversensitive dick, flinching, but allowing Rip, _trusting_ Rip to care for him. 

Rip would always take care of Ryan the way he cared for the rest of the family.

But he would be damned if he anchored him here with them. Where Beth couldn’t leave her ties, Ryan had the chance to walk away, whenever he wanted. 

Beth’s brand was invisible. Ryan walked like he already wore one. 

When Rip left him at the door to the bunk, he left him with a lingering kiss, enough to remind Ryan that he was here, _was_ a part of something. 

Even if he knew it would never be enough. At least it was enough for the man to go to sleep another night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan demands to go with them, even after Rip says no.  
> The problem is that he does it in front of the wranglers.

He could see him, out of the corner of his eye. Ryan watched them with that steely look that Rip knew he was lost to before the battle even began.

Rip looked away, trying to brush him off.

“ _I wanna go with you._ ” 

Rip’s reaction was immediate. He stood and began to walk away.

“No you don't.” No way in hell was he about to let Ryan get tangled up in _this_.

Rip grabbed his hat to avoid looking at the man.

He continued toward the door when Ryan pleaded with him, voice somehow soft and determined, all at once. 

“ _I’m already in this place so deep…_ ”

Rip turned on his heel and finally met those bright eyes. 

_Damnit to hell._ He knew that look better than anyone. This was his last chance. If he didn’t allow the man to join them, he was going to do it anyway, and it was going to cost a hell of a lot more than it would to make him a part of this.

“He wants you clean. You carry a badge.” He knew it was a wasted argument. Yes, John’s word was law, but Rip was the judge and jury.

“Badge hasn’t kept me clean,” Rip could hear the desperation. He knew what good men could do with desperation.

He sighed, grinding his teeth. He could feel the eyes of the wranglers on him. 

No one told Rip no without consequence.

He didn’t have time for this.

Rip stepped into Ryan’s space, looking him in the eye, staring back that stupid bravery in his challenge, until he couldn’t bear it anymore. His voice went low, stepping closer until he was nearly breathing the man’s air.

Rip swallowed around his cologne. Why the fuck any of the cowboys bothered with cologne was always beyond him.

He tapped lightly at Ryan’s lapel, more to distract himself and buy time than for any other reason.

“If you want in…” He sighed softly, picturing the perfect flesh waiting to be marred under the jacket. He balled his fist lightly, if only to avoid pressing his palm over Ryan’s heart, as he’d done a hundred times before. 

He’d done everything he could to keep Ryan from the darkness of this place, to keep one foot shoved out the door, to keep him fucking _alive_. 

Rip lowered his voice to near a whisper, trying his best not to let it break.

“…it’s all the way in.” Rip swallowed again, resting his fist on Ryan’s chest, imagining he could feel the jumping pulse that he knew was jackrabbiting under the man’s skin.

Rip cursed himself. He shouldn’t have met that pleading gaze again. 

“I know,”

And it was sealed.

**Author's Note:**

> Till next time,  
> -J X


End file.
